


Permanence

by plumtrees



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Teikou Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 18:28:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3619869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumtrees/pseuds/plumtrees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>“If I were to be a permanent canvas for anything you’ve created Akashi, then I must prove to be deserving of it.”</p>
  <p>“I just don’t think I’m worthy,”</p>
</blockquote><p>Midorima has a moment of weakness, and so does Akashi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Permanence

Midorima secretly loves how the deep black lines travelled across his skin, each lick of the brush left its mark, and each trail of ink crept into the cracks of his skin like black veins. 

Maybe that is why he lets Akashi do this: use him as a canvas for his paintings. The latest one was a silhouette of a sakura tree, completely bare aside from one blossom right at the tip of one of the ornate branches, located at the protruding knob of bone where neck met shoulders. The painting ran across the entirety of his back, and he aches at the memory of how long he had to lie still, just so Akashi could complete it. 

Midorima tilts and shifts every which way, the three-panel mirror behind him allowing him to admire Akashi’s handiwork from every angle. He marvels at the detail Akashi put into this one, and despairs at the thought of having to wash it off later.

“Won’t you even consider making this permanent, Midorima?” Akashi quips from his right, as if he had detected his trail of thought (Midorima wouldn’t be surprised if he really could), fingers sliding below a curve of ink that ran along Midorima’s shoulder blade. 

Midorima suppresses a shiver when the finger applies just the right amount of pressure and gathers enough mental faculties to formulate a response.

“If I get a permanent tattoo this size, I’ll probably have to come back for multiple sessions. Also, it might not be ideal to have it now, given that I’m still at an age where growth spurts could occur.”

“I’m not saying _now_ ,” Akashi appeases. “Maybe when you’re 21 and you’ve finally stopped with those infuriating growth spurts.”

“You did not take into account that I will be attending medical school. I might not even have time to exercise, let alone maintain the training regimen that we have now as starting members.”

“You were always quite lean, even when we were children.” Akashi’s left hand comes up, palm pressing along his abdomen, appreciatively mapping the prominent muscles there. “I don’t think you’ll need to worry about your skin stretching because you’ll accumulate fat.”

Akashi’s pinky dips below the waistband of Midorima’s boxers and he lets out an undignified sound. He grips Akashi’s wrist to prevent more fingers from joining it.

“W-with a tattoo this size people might mistake me for a yakuza.”

Suddenly, the hands fall away from his body. Midorima tries not to be too disappointed at the loss. “You know, you could just tell me that you don’t want a tattoo and this conversation would have ended before it even began.”

Akashi’s expression is open and amused, as if he’s patiently arguing with a child. Midorima sighs, he should really look into whether or not Akashi really _can_ read his mind.

“It’s not because I don’t want it.” He says. “If I were to be a permanent canvas for anything you’ve created Akashi, then I must prove to be deserving of it.”

He knows, years down the line, he will most likely become tired of basketball. He would devote everything to accomplishing his dream of becoming a surgeon, and abandon everything else in the process. His muscles, formed and sculpted by the harsh training regimen put under them as Teikou’s first string, would atrophy and leave behind nothing more than a body of loose skin and bones. And to look into the mirror with the knowledge that it wasn’t just _his_ body he had been careless with, but also one of Akashi’s paintings…it was something he would never forgive himself for.

 _Besides, there are others who are more worthy of being your canvas,_ he thinks, despite the jealousy that wells up in his chest at the thought. He has sneaked subtle looks around the locker room whenever they would change, and he knows Akashi has also ran appreciative gazes along the bodies of the other Teikou regulars. He does not blame him. The sleek grace and exotic allure of Aomine's tanned skin, the effortless strength that lies within Murasakibara's body, even the pristine porcelain-white of Kuroko's complexion...

“I just don’t think I’m worthy,” he finishes, clenching his fists in the loosened folds of the yukata Akashi made him wear.

The silence extends for longer than expected, and Midorima feels his face burn in humiliation when he realizes how pathetic he must have sounded.

Suddenly, Akashi is pressed against his side, kissing along the strong arc of his shoulder. “You are already perfect, Midorima, you know I don’t associate myself with lesser beings.”

Midorima's face heats up again, but for a completely different reason. Akashi’s hands are back on him, touching more intimately this time, aiming to comfort rather than tease.

“I do not paint on you because I found your body to be deserving of showcasing my creations. I paint to enhance the beauty that is already there. This body, _your_ body is truly a sight to behold, Midorima, and what I do is only a paltry attempt to accentuate the view.”

Midorima draws his gaze back to the mirrors, eyes following the lines that sprout from the base of his spine. He had always thought that it was a natural sense that guided Akashi’s hand whenever he painted on him. Now, he sees each line serving a purpose, the varying weights and the way they curled around his back throwing each bone and muscle into high relief.

He is smiling before he knows it, and Akashi brushes away the hair on the back of his neck to lay a kiss on the lone flower hidden there. “Stand proud. It is unbecoming of me to have a vice-captain that does not have utmost confidence in himself.”

And the moment is broken. Midorima's eyes widen, a vacuum of sound explodes in his head. 

“Vice-captain?” 

Akashi backs away from him, eyes clouded over with sadness. It is almost undiscernible, but Midorima always, _always_ knows when Akashi is upset. “Nijimura-san has retired.”

Midorima knows he is just stating the obvious, but he finds himself saying it anyway. “You’re the captain now.”

He does not say it with surprise or awe, because to him there was nothing more right and proper than for Akashi Seijuurou to be a leader. There was no other man Midorima Shintarou would bow down to, no other whose orders he would follow without question, no other he would devote himself completely to.

“And you’re the new vice-captain.” Akashi says in reply, and Midorima is quickly reminded that he has yet to give him an answer. “If you’ll accept it.”

Protests spring up in Midorima’s head. He opens his mouth to voice them but Akashi hooks a finger under his chin before he could even speak.

“Now, now, Midorima, what did I just say about self-confidence?”

Akashi has angled his head so that Midorima’s gaze was locked onto his, and upon seeing those eyes, Midorima’s restless thoughts are immediately silenced, replaced by the ones reflected in those red orbs.

_I chose you because I know you are capable._

_I chose you because I cannot do it alone, and there is no one else I am willing to share that weakness to._

Midorima sees eyes far too jaded and tired for a second year junior high student, sees shoulders that have been carrying far too much, far too early. He sees the child he held in his arms as his mother expired on a hospital bed.

He sees a man who is entrusting him to help him carry the weight that is Teikou’s legacy of victory, and if Akashi believes him to be worthy, then Midorima will do everything in his power to never disappoint.

With newfound resolve, he takes Akashi’s hand and lifts it to his lips, kissing each knuckle with a reverence he reserves for nothing else.

“We will lead Teikou to absolute victory. Both of us.”

It is a vow he plans to uphold for the rest of his life, or for as long as Akashi is willing to have him by his side. 

He prays that those two conditions were one and the same.


End file.
